


Without you

by whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit



Series: Happy Ending Guaranteed [24]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BUT OF COURSE the idiots don't know, Castiel Has a Cat, Castiel Likes Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Likes Castiel, Drabbles, Happy Ending, I guess it's a bit angsty, M/M, attempt at writing again and not liking it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/pseuds/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very few times Dean touched Castiel, it was all manly, shoulder clapping, you son of a gun. And every time, it reminded Castiel painfully of what others can get, enjoy, cuddle into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookworm4ever81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm4ever81/gifts), [pineapplesin221Bwithyayships_seeyouthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplesin221Bwithyayships_seeyouthen/gifts).



> It's been weeks that I was able to write something other than a response at work, so f+ck depression.
> 
> and thank life for reminding me of [Placebo's Without you I'm nothing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BLmypIo-wFY) because that's just what I needed. absolutely not ironic.  
> thank you bookworm4ever81 for reading almost all the shit I wrote before, and  
> pinapplesin221Bwithyayships_seeyouthen you likely have the most epic nick name I've ever read, so thank you too.

At first, when Castiel entered Dean's home, he did feel a bit out of place, as is usually the case with first visits. Not knowing where the water glasses or cups are, having Dean to have to tend to his needs.  
Castiel felt welcome, but useless.  
It didn't help that Dean adored him and basically knew when his guest would need another beverage even before said guest was aware of it.  
Castiel was welcome, but felt useless.  
After a few times, Castiel tentatively asked to help - do the washing up, set or clear the table, chop veggies, take the plastic bag of unrecyclable waste on his way home as the the container wasn't locked, easy things. Things that can be seen as a simple gesture of ‘Thank you for having me over’. In secret though. Yes, in secret, Castiel had long begun to wish to have a part in Dean's life.

A bit more than the weekly _wanna come over tomorrow and stuff our faces until we food coma again_ ?

A teensy bit more when they decided to become slobs on a Friday afternoon, and not go out in the evening, opting to watch movies or play cards.

 _Just a little more_ , he thought, when they did go out and people left and right would strike up a conversation, with either of them, sit between them. Once, a lovely lady had wedged herself between them and engaged Dean in a clever discussion. See, pubs are loud. So speaking a little too low makes people move closer, right? She was beautifully built, and had an open smile, one crooked tooth making it all the more perfect. Sparkling eyes full of mirth, a throaty laugh that turned heads.

Seeing her loss, her friend had thrown a small smile in the general direction of Castiel and went to hunt for another lucky guy, or girl, no judgement here.

So when Dean wanted to ask her friend and Cas for their opinion and noticed that Cas had a super-single-date with his beer instead of his counterparts’ friend, Dean tried to incorporate Cas into their convo.

Cas, not wanting to be a disturbance - her face was still open, and friendly, but there was either a soft pleading or well masked _Get the fuck_ out _please_ in her eyes - he simply shook his head and drained his beer and with a smile that felt so thinly stretched like the lie that clawed itself out of his mouth, a lie of being _Too tired anyway_ , and _Have a great night, it was nice to meet you and your friend_ , and he stood up to leave.

Perhaps Dean might have stayed with her. Perhaps, had she not turned around without any reaction, leaning in closer to Dean, dismissing Castiel and without any comment turn his back to him. Again.

 _Being rude_ , Dean told her off. Castiel winced in sympathy, he understood. He might have not shown the same dismissive behaviour, ever, but certainly she would have not done either had not the alcohol made her more bold and hopeful.

Strength and warmth engulfed the upper part of Castiel and he felt like he might be able to fly away while being tied to Dean, even though it was just an arm slung around his shoulders; it was still a comet of light and happiness. Something that would slowly but certainly cut him deeper and deeper until all possibilities of his life’s enjoyment bled with _Dean_ and and _safe_ and _happy_ and _home_ and _adoration_.

The very few times Dean touched Castiel, it was all manly, shoulder clapping, _you son of a gun_.

And every time, it reminded Castiel painfully of what others can get, enjoy, cuddle into. He knew Dean was slightly larger built, and once Castiel had woken up with the feeling of warmth lingering to his back, the feeling of _home_ safely draining away with each pump of his heart as his brain frantically tried to remember the dream, to have some kind of memento to treasure. That morning, Dean brought him freshly made muffins with coffee, ruffling his hair, and scooted Cas over. Castiel was happy for the weekly movie nights and that he could stay over - sleeping on the couch, but still - at Dean's.

Dean had teased him of sleeping like the dead, but stopped when he noticed that Castiel was down. The gentleness with which he ruffled Castiel's hair and put a mug of nana tea onto the coffee table next to the sofa hurt even more, but still he was thankful. He could learn to be okay with this. Friendship he truly treasured was worth far more. Dean had made pancakes that morning.

  
That had been a few months ago. Dean hadn’t dated in a long time, longer than a year now, not since his break-up. It has been before Castiel became a tiny peg in the beautiful system of Dean Winchester. Dean would not speak of the time before Castiel and him had met, at least not about that part of his life, but apparently he had been burned, and burned bad.

So Castiel knew he would learn to be okay with a friendship he treasured. He had no intention to hurt Dean, ever, but certainly his partner back then hadn't wanted that either. Who would be able to?

Imagining to be erased from Dean's world completely was too scary - if the imagination hurt, Castiel didn't want to know the feeling of making a mistake and being ejected from Dean's world altogether. 

So he tip-toed his feelings back, slowly reigning them in, gently trampling them into the ground and laying a plastic bag over the earth to suffocate any buds that would emerge.

It got harder and harder to do so, though, when all Dean offered was what Castiel would gladly take as his own, to add another layer to the friendship he had come to love.

 

Summer changed into cooler days and colder nights, and the heaviness Castiel always felt when the sun was hiding more and more during the day made him ache for another warmth, next to him.

 

It wasn’t a fight.

Not really. Not with Dean, rather one Castiel had with himself and perhaps the ironic part is that he both lost and won it, as emotio and ratio still kept fighting with each other for days.

Castiel asked Dean if he could stop by on his way to bring over some thing or the other Dean had left on his last visit, knowing that Dean would have to leave soon after meeting with him. Knowing that he was a coward and deserved none of the happiness he was craving.

When Dean let him in, he was his usual beautiful self, a sun on his own. Castiel dreaded the coldness that would engulf him soon, but he could not continue. Not after he repeatedly caught himself almost reaching out to swipe away a speck of flour from Dean's cheekbone when they were baking, not after wanting to tuck his feet under Dean's blanket when they shared a couch and a bowl of popcorn between them. Not after he had dreamed again of warmth against his back and again failed to manifest the dream as memory, as truth in his mind, to help him breathe. They had teacup muffins on that day.

So he told Dean, he lies and tells him that he needed space.

That, yes, they would stay in touch, _Of course Dean, I’m just crazy busy right now_.

They left Dean's flat together, and went their separate ways but Castiel knew this was it. He would not call. He would not text. He would not use Facebook. He would slowly fade into the background, to be forgot and soon he would heal. Yes, he would heal without the constant pain of being close to something he craves but is not allowed to look at in the ways he could, needs, loves to.

Dean texts every day. At first several times, seeing that Castiel replies quickly, craving whatever he can get.

Castiel wills himself to not reply quickly. He allows hours to pass before shooting back a short message devoid of any colour or interest.

Slowly, just like his happiness, the messages trickle by, and everything turns to molasses once they stop.

Castiel functions though. He eats, he goes grocery shopping, he goes to work. He showers and brushes his teeth and takes care of Ellie, brushing her fur daily to a shiny perfection. She likes to curl around herself between his ankles and sleep, but since the day he turned his back on Dean and walked away she has slept on his chest like she did when his father had died, like she did when Castiel broke it off with Zeke a life-time ago, like she has done every time he had fallen ill. Her purring is what keeps his mind at ease, another warm being breathing next to him somehow soothing what feels like the _something_ he should, or could, not know because. Well. Because he might have fallen for Dean, but they haven't loved each other, hadn't been _in love_ with each other, and he cannot be lovesick.

His mind begs to differ, and slowly deteriorates into a functioning mess. Ellie winds herself around his feet one night and purrs, and finally, Castiel cries.

 

It’s been close to seven weeks now, and almost two that Dean had stopped writing.

  
This was necessary, Castiel chants in his head, and Ellie just allows him to curl around her small body, not even minding the wetness of breath and snot and tears. Ellie knows her mama is in pain. Once she meows when Castiel pinches a bit too tight, and he immediately releases her. She stays.

She stays, and Castiel wishes he was a cat so he could have stayed with Dean until the end of his time.

He doesn't recall falling asleep but apparently he has somehow and wakes to a ruckus at his front door, Ellie pawing at the metal, whining.

On the other side is a Dean he doesn't know.  Looking haggard, thinner, pale skinned with bags under his eyes and lids that yell for sleep but refuse to keep shut. Castiel looks into a mirror, perhaps, and has lost touch with reality.

Dean is small, his voice cracked, when he asks if he could enter. Everything in Castiel screams at him to _slam the door closed_ , to not give into temptation because he would have worked through this, he was so close - instead, he steps back, intent on giving Dean the full width of the door to enter.

Dean chooses to step in the second Castiel nods, cornering Castiel back and closing the door behind him. Castiel steps back, and Dean follows, so Castiel turns around and he is glad he is not one to usually make a sound without reason because Dean has wrapped both arms around him and holds him tight and presses his nose into the crook where Castiel's neck and shoulder meet, just where the skin peeks out from his well-worn Goofy-T-Shirt. Castiel now has a memory, a sensory overload, true and really happening, not just a dream quickly forgotten in the morning haze.

Dean is apologising profusely, swearing he will never do it again so can Cas _please come back_? Dean will never do it again, whatever it was, but he needs Cas and he’s been so empty for the last weeks, he’ll change whatever needs to change so that he can have his friend back.

And so, Castiel breaks and admits that he cannot be friends with Dean any more. That he perhaps wasn’t able to ever be, truly, but not since the pancake breakfast.

Dean cries.

He knows it was wrong. He swears he did nothing, just basked in Cas’ warmth for a few seconds, but he’ll never do it again, he doesn’t know what came over him to break Castiel's trust and lie next to him for a few breaths.

Castiel whips around, frowning, lacking understanding and is met with a pained face.

And it clicks.

They settle with a cup of tea on Castiel's sofa with the mismatched cushions he loves to bits, Ellie between them.

The tea gets discarded the next morning. They’ve never gotten around to drink it. But they hadn’t missed the warmth, because for the first time in more than a year they had shared the warmth of another body.

When Castiel entered Dean's home the next time, he does not feel out of place, as is usually the case when visiting your boyfriend.

Soon, Castiel stayed over at Dean's more often than not.

  
See, the problem was that Castiel lived with a flatmate. It's not that he was disgusted by living with a man who preferred the male sex for intimate get togethers, quite the opposite. However, a budding relationship was tender as a flower and - _scratch that_ , Castiel and Dean were at it like the proverbial bunnies in heat, constantly touching, kissing, nipping, pinching at butt cheeks and in general a honey moon-eyed pain in the ass (Dean had snorted at Inias' eloquent description at that point) and were kindly, but frankly, asked to go mess around somewhere else and not on the sofa in the shared area. Again. 

**Author's Note:**

> frankly, I was tempted to make this the end of [It's A Regular Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4327497) but I dismissed this idea after a big cup of tea. I'll push through it, so thank you for reading this.  
> edit Feb 20th: Dean's POV [ here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6066139) / next part.


End file.
